


In The Palm Of His Hand

by LadyBookwormWithTeeth



Series: NSFW Drabble Meme Challenge [6]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, F/M, Gags, Heart Play, Masturbation, Mind Control, Orgasm Denial, S&M, on her knees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 16:07:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5254706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBookwormWithTeeth/pseuds/LadyBookwormWithTeeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She had asked for mercilessness, and Rumple always gave his wife what she wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Palm Of His Hand

“Don’t you want to ask me?”

There was a deep intake of breath, but other than that, no sound from behind the gag that was currently fitted between his wife’s lips. Rumple knew she was close. Belle could bring herself to the edge within minutes, and she had been rubbing herself for enough time. And his command had been very clear; he didn’t want her to tease herself, but to touch her most sensitive parts, get herself wet, get herself there. Once she was close enough, she could beg for his permission to come.

“Not yet?” he asked, thumbing the heart he was holding in the palm of his hand. Belle wasn’t looking at it, his first command was to forbid her to look away from his eyes. It didn’t matter that it had been her idea, staring at your own heart was never pleasant. Besides, it was so much easier to read her when she stared at him so intently. “Are you sure you’re stroking the right parts, love?” he taunted. “Circle your clit a few times. That might do the trick.”

Her fingers moved immediately to obey his order. The first touch turned her raggedy breath into a series of moans. Drool slipped from under her gag and slid down her chin, dripping on the puddle she was leaving on the floor. Her hips pushed against her hand, though her knees couldn’t move. They were frozen apart as she stood on her thighs, naked and vulnerable so that he could feast on her body.

“There you go. Doesn’t that feel much better?” he said, his breathing getting shallow the more he watched her. If she hadn’t sucked him dry just minutes before, he’d forget the teasing and push his wife to her hands and knees. He could take her from behind while making her lick the mess she was leaving on their perfectly polished floor – it felt a little cruel, and she might actually appreciate it. But right now, he only had enough stamina to watch her touch herself, her body rocking and her chest heaving beautifully as she followed his instructions closely. “Slowly now. We’re not in a hurry. Don’t stop, unless it’s unpleasant.”

Her moaning grew louder, stretching from sighs to long syllables.

“Not ready to ask yet?”

Another deep breath.

Then, something came out of her mouth. A succession of throaty sounds, paused and inarticulate, but definitely words. Or attempted words. It was hard to tell with that gag in place. He knew what they meant, though. He had heard them enough times before.

_Please, may I come?_

Usually, that would be enough. Today, he gave her a cruel smile and said, “I did not get that. Ask again.”

Her eyes grew wide as her fingers continued to work her most sensitive spot. She made another attempt, speaking each word slowly, as if that could be enough to fight the gag in her mouth. The result was breathless, shrouded in moans, and only made her husband shake his head.

“No. That won’t do. Make an effort. You can stroke yourself faster, if you’d like.”

She stared at him pleadingly, her moans turning into whimpers and her eyes filling with tears. Her thighs were trembling now, too exhausted to support her, but too trapped to give in. It had to be hard on her knees as well. And how much more could she masturbate before her skin went numb and the orgasm she so desperately wanted became unachievable?

She didn’t ask to stop though. She just tried to speak even more slowly, taking deep breaths between each word.

_Please…_

_May…_

_I…_

_Come…_

“Are you asking me for permission, my dear?”

She all but shouted “Yes!”, her hand working frantically between her thighs, fighting the pull of magic that kept her body from falling over the edge. She’d gladly disobey him if she could. No punishment he could think of would be worse than this.

“Do you want to have an orgasm, my dear?” he asked.

Again, she forced the word “Yes!” out of her mouth. She was desperate. At this point, she’d do anything for the pleasure he was denying her. And though there was no sight more beautiful than his wife throwing back her head and giving in to a powerful climax, he still glanced at the heart in his hand and said, “No.”

Belle whined another plea, but Rumple said, “No. Not tonight. Stop touching yourself.”

She complied immediately, giving out one last moan, an empty, desperate sound that filled him with pity, but didn’t change his mind. She had asked for mercilessness, and Rumple always gave his wife what she wanted. He waited for her breathing to go back to normal before saying, “Now crawl over here, love. I want to lick your fingers clean.”

Belle covered the distance between herself and the armchair. Her movements were slow and hard, sore muscles trying to obey a command they couldn’t fight, but the moment he helped her up with his free hand and adjusted her on his lap, her whole body went limp. He unbuckled the gag and tossed it aside, before guiding her hand to his mouth.

“How do you feel, beautiful?” he asked, before sucking on her index finger.

Belle sighed and nuzzled his neck. “Pained. My legs won’t work for a week.”

Rumple shook his head and moved on to the next finger, licking the taste she had left behind. He sounded guilty when he said, “You could have told me. I’d have gotten you a chair.”

“No. It’s good.” She sighed again, content. “ _Good_  pain.

“You say that now. Tomorrow you’ll be asking me to heal you.”

“Or for a massage. I think I deserve it.”

“You do,” he agreed, giving her fingers one last suck before letting them go, but holding on to her hand. “You were very good.”

He eyed the heart he was still holding. “I better put it back in.”

“No,” she asked, quietly. “Just a little longer. I like it when you hold it.”

“Just a  _little_  longer,” he agreed.

“I like it when you hold it,” she repeated, in a sleepy voice. “It feels safe.”

He smiled against her forehead. “I’ll keep it safe for you.”


End file.
